


210

by sonictrowel



Series: Long Night in the Blue House [13]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: Ten years into their stay on Darillium, sometimes it all still took River by surprise.Some mornings she woke first, in the velvety dark.  As the shadowed features of their bedroom slowly emerged in the starlight slanting through the window, she would realise she wasn’t in her bunk in Stormcage, or her lonely bed on Luna, or stealing a few minutes’ rest in the Vortex before they started running again.





	

 

 

Ten years into their stay on Darillium, sometimes it all still took River by surprise.

Some mornings she woke first, in the velvety dark.  As the shadowed features of their bedroom slowly emerged in the starlight slanting through the window, she would realise she wasn’t in her bunk in Stormcage, or her lonely bed on Luna, or stealing a few minutes’ rest in the Vortex before they started running again.  That she was enveloped in a warm nest of blankets with her husband wrapped all around her— _actually sleeping—_  his nose nuzzled into her neck, his breathing soft and even as he dreamed.  

Then the ambient hum of the TARDIS would make itself known, more a calming presence in her mind now than a sound in her ears.  Because they were on solid ground, in complete peace and stillness, on a planet that was turning so slowly it was nearly stopped.  Time was crawling by as slowly as it could, and they were living it the long way round. 

Some mornings, she would have an even more pleasant wake-up call.  She would drift gradually from some half-remembered dream into a slowly-spreading awareness of her body, starting with the tender caress of warm, familiar hands.  She’d lean into his touch, floating on the edge of consciousness, only processing that he was there and he felt wonderful.  Before she had the energy to open her eyes, his lips would brush hers, gentle and soft, and his mind would reach comfortingly into her foggy, drowsy thoughts.  

_Hello, love.  Perfect, warm, safe, home— belong here, close, together.  Want you.  Love you._

_Yes,_ her whole being said, always; too tranquil and content with basking in his affection to convey anything more taxing than her happy assent.  And in the warmth of their bed, in the embrace of the pressing dark, with the soul of the TARDIS humming in the back of her mind, the softness of his touch would set fire to her sleepy senses.  His tongue dancing with hers and their bodies grasping and pushing to be as near as possible, hot skin sliding heavenly against hot skin, bared to each other in silent communion.  And when he was moving with her and in her, holding her close and whispering her name, nothing in the universe was ever more perfect or right.  

And on some mornings, River woke alone.  In the first few years, whenever her hand reached out to find only empty sheets on his side of the bed, everything came rushing back.  The running, the distance, the loneliness, the pain of travelling in different directions.  For a moment she would be lost in time and space— but then she’d catch a whiff of crumpets cooking on the hob, or hear the faint strains of his guitar, like anchors reminding her of the solid, real life they had.  One that wasn’t always slipping through her fingers.  And she’d remember that they were _home._

She didn’t worry when she woke alone anymore.  Today, she heard the clatter of bowls in the kitchen and the muffled cadence of two voices bickering and laughing: one lively and sarcastic, the other gruff and Scottish.  

Today was her birthday.

The closest River had ever come to a consistent home life was the time she spent growing up in Leadworth.  She would always treasure her memories of being her parents’ best friend, but it wasn’t exactly a family, even though it _was_ hers, and it wasn’t exactly home.  It was just as well; she never really knew how to be anyone’s daughter.  Maybe she could have tried, if she thought it would ever be possible, but she knew wanting it would hurt too much when it was something she could never have.

It was why she had never travelled with the Doctor for too long.  One psychopath per TARDIS— some part of her always knew that wasn’t true of either of them.  But they had to keep moving, toward whatever inevitable end.  It was already written.  There was no use wishing for a normal marriage, to be a real husband and wife.  It would hurt too much when it could never be.

But here they were now.  One impossible wish granted by that impossible man, if only for a while.  A little bit of precious normalcy, security and love, in a life where those things had always seemed a hopeless dream.  It almost made one dare to hope it could continue; dare to hope for more.  But hoping was a dangerous enterprise.  The Doctor had done everything in his power to postpone this night, and finally to give them all this time when he could avoid it no longer, and they couldn’t talk about what came after.  It didn’t take a genius to work it out.  

River leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching as the Doctor turned a chocolate cake layer out of the tin while dictating instructions to Milly, who was dipping a candy thermometer in a pot and ignoring him.  The Doctor looked as content as she’d ever seen him.   

If they _were_ to have a child, she thought, it was likely she would never see them reach Milly’s age.  She would never see who that person they created would become, what they would achieve.  She wouldn’t be there to help and guide them.  Maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t think that knowing she would miss their child’s future was something she wanted to have to live with.  Just the thought of leaving _him_ behind was... well.  Better not to think of it.

The Doctor glanced up and saw her in the doorway, and his face broke into a ridiculous grin.  He threw his hands up in the air and shouted “River!” and Milly turned to beam at her too.

River was helpless to resist the smile stealing over her own face as she walked into the kitchen and the Doctor gathered her in his arms.  He kissed her soundly and Milly made an exaggerated gagging noise, which he ignored.  “Happy birthday, dear,” he said warmly, his nose nuzzling against hers.

“Happy birthday, Professor,” said Milly, bouncing on her toes.

“Thank you, my loves.” River pulled the young woman into their hug and squeezed them both tight, as both Milly and the Doctor groaned and made a show of flailing about.

“No, sorry, I can do one-on-one, but this is too much,” the Doctor groused.

“Yeah, I’d better see if I need to get the syrup off the hob,” said Milly, ducking out of River’s grip.  “The buttercream might well be the saving grace of this entire operation.”

“You should really know better than to question my culinary skills,” said the Doctor, dropping a kiss on River’s head and giving her another goofy smile before he returned to de-tinning cake layers.

“He’s put cinnamon in a chocolate cake!”

“Have you?” asked River, taking a seat at the worktop.

“Wha— yes!  Honestly, you lot, you’re in another bloody galaxy, but now adding a bit of Earth stick to your Earth beans, _that’s_ a bridge too fucking far.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, darling,” River laughed, leaning forward and smiling indulgently at him.

“You will,” he said with a wink.

“Ugh,” said Milly.

“Don’t forget the orange zest in the buttercream, Mils.”

“Yes, Cake Lord.”

“Oh god, Milly, don’t start—” River warned.

“Too late, that is my new official title,” said the Doctor.  “From now on I’ll be addressed as the Lord of Cakes.”

Milly looked at him dully and cranked the mixer up to full speed.  

Then she patted her pocket, pulled out her phone, and answered it with her finger plugging her other ear.  “Hello?  Yeah, give us a mo’,” she said, waving distractedly at them as she walked out into the lounge.

The Doctor came around to River’s side of the worktop and pulled a stool up directly next to hers, taking her hand.

“I hope you don’t mind staying in,” he said, just audible over the whir of the mixer.  “I know your birthdays haven’t exactly been as… extravagant as I used to do, the past few years.  Only so many sights to see here, and they’re all currently under several feet of snow.”

“No, that sounds perfect, honey,” she said, brushing her hand over his cheek and feeling warmth spread through her under his soft, loving gaze.  “All I want is to spend it with you." 

“Well,” he lowered his voice further, leaning in by her ear, “I’ll do my best to show you a good time.”

River beamed at him.  “Oh _will_ you?  Any hints, or is it a surprise?”

 _“And on that note!”_ Milly announced loudly, returning to the kitchen.

“Got fucking bionic ears, that one,” the Doctor muttered.

“I’ll have to be off early,” she said, smiling apologetically at River and switching off the mixer. 

“What, you’ve somewhere better to be?” the Doctor chided. 

“Home for the spring holidays, remember?  It’s been ages.  Sorry to leave on your birthday, though, Professor.” 

The Doctor tried to cover his look of disappointment with one of general grumpiness, but he wasn’t quite quick enough to escape River’s notice.  “Sodding academics,” he grumbled.  “They’re a hundred light-years from Earth and still call it spring holiday?  Have they been outside in the past half a bloody decade?”

“I’m glad you’re going to get to visit your family, Milly,” River said.  “How are you getting to Earth?”

“My dad’s giving me a lift.”

“You what?” the Doctor said abruptly.

“I said my dad’s giving me a lift?”  

River bit her lip— the Doctor’s expression was not too dissimilar to the one he’d had on when he met her ‘other husbands.’

Milly was looking at him like he’d lost the plot.  “...A dad’s this bloke that gives you half your DNA—”

“No, I— no, right, you’ve probably got one of those,” he mumbled awkwardly.  

“I’ve got a mum as well, I wasn’t made on a _loom,_ ” she teased.

“That’s not—!”  He sighed.  “Some fucking archaeologist was having a laugh with that one.”

“Well, it wasn’t me this time,” River said, smirking. 

 _“This time,”_ the Doctor mumbled, a reluctant crooked smile spreading on his face. 

“Think you can handle taking over the cake decorating, Mr. Song?” Milly asked.

“Yeah, yeah, bugger off back to dull old Earth to do dull Earth things, like having daylight and not being under a mountain of snow,” the Doctor grumbled.

“I’ll only be a couple of weeks.  Hardly enough time for you two to be disgusting all over the house.  You won’t even know I was gone.” 

“We will miss you, Milly,” River said with a wistful smile.  “Give our best to your parents, won’t you?” 

“Oh— yeah, I will.”

“Need a ride to the shuttle port?” the Doctor asked.

“Nah, I’m just going to leg it down to town, they’ve just cleared the road already this morning, so it’ll hold for a while.  Really, no sense in us all going out in the cold.  Get on with the birthday celebrating.”

They saw her to the door with her bags, where she accepted hugs individually from them both and repeatedly refused the Doctor’s offers to accompany her to the port.  And then she was off, and the TARDIS was unusually quiet.  River watched the Doctor as he looked out the window, where the snow was still falling, though Milly had already passed the crest of the cliff and was out of sight.  She knew it was always hard for him when his companions left, for however long.  And Milly was special, to both of them.

“Alright?” she asked, placing her hand on his arm.

“'Course I am,” he said, turning to smile down at her.  “I’ve got my gorgeous, amazing wife and the whole TARDIS to ourselves, _and_ cake.”

She smiled hesitantly.  “Really?  New-Rule-One really?”

“Really,” he said, taking her face in his hands and looking straight into her eyes, with a soft, slightly mischievous smile playing on his lips. She believed him. 

“Well then, what’s first on the birthday agenda?” River asked brightly, grinning up at him.

“No supervision; we could always start with snogging on the sofa.”

“Hmm, do go on.”

“Rot our teeth having cake for every meal, sneak some booze from the cabinet, watch some crap telly…”

“I think you’re sort of… conflating two very different age groups with your no-supervision plans.” 

“Right, well, can’t tell me you’re not used to that.” 

River laughed.  “It has been a while though.  There’s something about a man who looks twenty years your junior coming on to you whilst hanging from a jungle gym that does give one pause.”

“Lucky for you that I’m all grown up, then.”

“Mmm,” she grinned, grabbing him by the collar, “lucky for me indeed.”

___

By afternoon, they were sprawled out on the rug in the lounge, in partially dressed disarray.  They were drinking _some_ kind of alien scotch— River forgot what kind after having a few glasses of it— that somehow did not clash horribly with the chocolate-cinnamon-orange zest cake (which, of course, was delicious; possibly her new favourite.)  The Doctor was angrily heckling some painfully awful ancient rom-com that he was watching upside down from his vantage point on his back in front of the telly, while River lay on her stomach, spearing bites from her third slice of cake.

“I’m s’posed to believe this tosser just fell through a sodding hole in time under the Brooklyn fuckin’ Bridge?”

“Stranger things have _actually_ happened, to be fair,” River pointed out.

“Like the bunghole of time,” he snorted.

“The _what?!”_ River laughed, trying not to choke on her cake.

“You know, the time whatsit at Coal Hill, ’s buggered all to hell.  Shit, guess I haven’t checked on them in a while.”

“Eh,” said River.

“Eh,” the Doctor agreed, “they’re fine.  They haven’t phoned.”

“As if you’d answer.”

“I did do one time.  Had to put a leg on somebody.”

“You what?”

“No, no, no, no,” he shouted at the screen, “this numpty did not invent the fuckin’ lift and that is _not_ how that works!”

River giggled and abandoned her cake to crawl over to the Doctor.  He reached his arms out and she swung a leg over him, bending down to lay her head on his shoulder and snuggle into his chest.  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair.

“How’s two hundred and ten treating you?” he asked.

“No complaints so far,” River smiled against the rumpled fabric of his half-opened shirt and closed her eyes.

 


End file.
